


Damn Machine

by 2babyturtles



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Halloween, M/M, Not my usual style, Sexytimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 17:53:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12512936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2babyturtles/pseuds/2babyturtles
Summary: Written to fulfill a prompt, this story is /super/ outside my normal style! Hope you enjoy!





	Damn Machine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Damien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damien/gifts).



> Written to fulfill a prompt, this story is /super/ outside my normal style! Hope you enjoy!

Greg’s brown fingers pull at the sweets wrapper, urging the candy out of the plastic. His eyes don’t leave Mycroft’s face as he takes the caramel between his teeth and pulls it delicately into his mouth. Mycroft smirks and takes another sip of his Scotch.

“Come on, you don’t want any candy at all?” Greg whines, pouting playfully.

Taking another sip, Mycroft cocks his head and raises an eyebrow. “No, I’m on a diet, remember?”

Greg slides forward off the edge of his seat to kneel between Mycroft’s legs. He wraps his hands around the man’s waist and smiles up at him. “You don’t need to lose any wait, Myc,” he croons, putting his face forward for a kiss. The man obliges and Greg bites him gently.

“I don’t do it for you, dear,” Mycroft teases.

Rolling his eyes, Greg returns to his feet and strolls across the room to the alcohol cart. An array of fine liquors present themselves and he eyes them devilishly. Holding aloft a bottle of Vodka and a whole lime, he offers a challenge. “How about another drink then? We both know I can hold my liquor better than you. Maybe if we get good and drunk, you won’t worry so much about how you look.”

It takes a moment for the pros and cons to play through Mycroft’s head and Greg bites his lip excitedly, enjoying the display of intelligence. “That’s not fair,” he decides, swallowing the last of his Scotch and offering his glass for a refill of the Vodka. “It’s not hard to get me drunk.”

Greg laughs, a low rumble in his chest, and fills the glass. He turns to cut open the lime and squeezes it into the glass as well. Mycroft raises an eyebrow at him. “It’s not going to taste very good,” he agrees, “but it’ll do the job. Would you like a caramel or a lollipop?”

“How about you eat your candy,” Mycroft counters, pushing himself out of his seat and kneeling in front of Greg. “And I eat you?” A blush floods Greg’s face as Mycroft begins pulling his belt open. “Yes, this is a good lollipop.”

Yanking open the bottle in his hand, Greg takes a swig and reaches for the nearby bowl of candy, taking as many pieces as he can at once. Mycroft raises an eyebrow at him as his lips slide around Greg’s throbbing erection, and Greg winks. “I love candy. We should both enjoy ourselves, shouldn’t we?”

Mycroft pulls away, indignation pulling his expression into a jaw-drop. Greg can’t help admiring the display and wonders whether he might be able to put that big open mouth to another purpose. Mycroft, however, is focusing on other things. “Are you saying I’m no good at this?” he demands. His tone is playful but there’s a hint of bitterness to it that makes it clear he’s offended.

“No, sir,” Greg responds sweetly, pushing him by the shoulders into a laying position and pulling off his belt as well. “Simply that I’m sure I could do better. Don’t you like the way I do it?” He pauses to eat another piece of candy, taunting Mycroft with the tip of his tongue as he takes a bite out of some taffy.

Mycroft scowls and folds his arms over his chest, not reacting as Greg finishes and returns the favor so recently granted him. His cock throbs as he wraps his lips around Mycroft’s and he wishes there was a more convenient way for them to work at the same time. The eye contact this position offers makes it worth it, though, and he focuses on the task at hand.

 “That’s not nice at all,” Mycroft pouts, refusing to acknowledge the man’s effort.

“Really?” Greg mocks, sending a shudder through Mycroft’s stomach with the deft twirl of his tongue. He finds his hands reaching forward, clutching Mycroft’s sides. He smiles, enjoying the way Mycroft's hips tense and move against him. “I thought it was _very_ nice. Why don’t you have some more of that drink and tell me just how much you enjoy this?”

Draining his glass, Mycroft smirks down at his companion. “Are you really trying to get me drunk?”

“Do you want me to?” Something mischievous dances in Greg’s eyes as he plants the gentlest of kisses on the soft skin at the top of Mycroft’s leg. The skin there is thin and the rush of blood to his groin makes Mycroft’s skin hot to the touch. Greg groans and stretches his fingers around the base of Mycroft’s erection, pulling it into his mouth.

Another shudder and whatever response Mycroft had started to form disappears in a low moan. His hands reach for Greg’s wide shoulders and pull him into the act. They moan together as Greg takes the new length. It doesn’t take long for Mycroft’s release to come, along with the hard buck of his hips that indicates it.

Coughing and spluttering, Greg pulls back sharply and spits onto the carpet. Mycroft stifles a laugh, confused by the uncharacteristic response. Before he can say anything, Greg retches and vomits the most brightly colored rainbow mess Mycroft has ever seen a human body produce.

“Perhaps a diet then, my dear?” Mycroft laughs, preferring humor over empathy.

Greg scowls, wiping his hand with the back of his mouth. “Damn machine,” he grumbles.

Laughing harder now, Mycroft sits forward and pulls Greg away from the spread of sick on the floor. He gets to his feet and retrieves a glass of water for Greg and another glass of Scotch for himself. Greg nods gratefully, taking the glass and drinking desperately. Smiling, Mycroft drains his glass at once and waits for Greg to return to his seat.

Head buzzing delightfully, Mycroft closes his eyes. “Let me know when you want me to return the favor,” he murmurs.

“Honestly, at this point, I’ll just settle for you cleaning up after me,” Greg grumbles, although a small smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. “Happy Halloween.”


End file.
